


Kaddish

by AnaliseGrey



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death Rituals, Episode: c02e025 Divergent Paths, Episode: c02e026 Found & Lost, Gen, Jewish Caleb, Not your normal holiday fare I know, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Death is never far in Blumenthal.It isn’t considered a close friend, but is more than just an aquaintance. Everyone in town knows death, knows someone who’s passed on, whether due to old age, hardship, or an accident of fate.The approved religions all have ideas on how to handle it, of course. Clerics pass through preaching about the light of Pelor, or the waiting grasp of the Raven Queen to whom all owe a debt, and that’s fine. The people of Blumenthal nod along, doing what they have to in order to survive, as they’ve always done, and perform as expected.But that isn’t all they do.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Kaddish

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, right?
> 
> I've had this sitting on the back burner for awhile now, and wasn't certain how to finish it, but I saw [@ParagonRaptors](https://twitter.com/ParagonRaptors/status/1209900173586919424?s=20)'s piece from this year's CR holiday gallery, and it inspired me to try to finish it.
> 
> And here we are.

Death is never far in Blumenthal.

It isn’t considered a close friend, but is more than just an aquaintance. Everyone in town knows death, knows someone who’s passed on, whether due to old age, hardship, or an accident of fate.

The approved religions all have ideas on how to handle it, of course. Clerics pass through preaching about the light of Pelor, or the waiting grasp of the Raven Queen to whom all owe a debt, and that’s fine. The people of Blumenthal nod along, doing what they have to in order to survive, as they’ve always done, and perform as expected.

But that isn’t all they do.

The people of Blumenthal have their own customs, their own ways to ease the pain of passing, and as the dust of the fight settles, as the reality of the situation starts to hit, Caleb looks at Mollymauk’s body laying bloody in the snow, and remembers.

Even as his mind rails against it, fights against the reality of what he’s seeing, that it can’t be true, Caleb knows with certainty that it is. He’s seen enough dead bodies to know what they look like- the utter stillness, mouth slightly parted, eyes open and staring blankly to the sky. There’s no mistaking what’s happened, no mistaking this for anything other than what it is. He approaches, kneels down, uncaring of the bloody damp soaking into the fabric of his trousers. Places a hand on Molly’s arm. The body is still warm, falling snowflakes melting on contact, though Caleb knows in this environment it won’t be long until the last warmth of life seeps away and the coldness of death takes over. He remembers Molly telling them about the first time, waking in a grave and being alone and empty, and custom aside, just in case, Caleb wants him to know that’s not true this time. Until the Molly is in the ground, he won’t be left alone.

In Blumenthal, there had been societies, groups of people whose job it was to see to the body, to prepare it for burial while the mourners prepared themselves as best they could. There’s little they can do for Molly, not in terms of what Caleb is accustomed to. There’s no water to cleanse the body, no clean linen shroud to wrap him in. They’ll have to do their best.

They wrap the body in Molly’s tapestry, the one glinting with the image of the Platinum Dragon, and while it doesn’t quite fit the specifics of tradition, the thought is there, and Caleb can’t help but think it suits him.

There’s no coffin for them to use, but that’s alright. No coffin means the natural processes begin sooner, help the body break down to feed the earth and begin the cycle of life anew. Caleb doesn’t know if it will work the same with Molly, if his coming back to life was a one-time fluke, or something that will happen again and again. The best they can do is guess. 

He digs a hole by the side of the road, near-mindlessly summoning the large cat paw to dig at the ground, to move the dirt. It’s a custom among his people to bury the dead quickly as possible, and Caleb thinks even they never buried someone quite so quickly as this.

Everyone mourns differently, he knows. Beau’s anger doesn’t surprise him, it’s been part of her as long as he’s known her, and Nott’s quiet is understandable, but as he finishes wrapping the body, he places a gentle hand on Molly’s forehead, and in what passes for the peace of his own mind, asks Molly’s forgiveness. Not for Molly’s death- he knows he can’t be forgiven for his part in that- but for any dishonor, for any wrongdoing after the fact.

The hole is finished, and they lay Molly to rest inside, tucking the tapestry around him as if settling him to a sound sleep, and as much as Caleb feels the lack of his presence already, he hopes that’s what this is. He hopes Molly finds rest.

He uses the cat’s paw to fill the grave in, but not before taking a few handfuls of dirt himself and tossing them in. The light patter of the dirt hitting the fabric of the tapestry is one that will stay with him, but he feels better for having done it. Among his people, helping fill in a grave is considered one of the highest order of good deeds a person can do; it’s a pure gesture, the person it benefits unable to repay the kindness. 

Moving back to let the paw finish the job, Caleb looks down at his coat. It’s as much a mess as always, threadbare and spattered with blood and dirt and worse. He doesn’t know that anyone will be able to tell, doesn’t know that it will make a difference to anybody but him, but he still reaches up to grasp one of the lapels and jerks it sharply in his hands, the fabric giving easily with the soft rasp of tearing thread.

They each say a few words, saying goodbye in their own way while the dwarvish woman, Keg, stands to the side.

In a normal situation, the mourners would retreat home, to be cared for by the community during the time of most-immediate mourning. Caleb looks at his remaining friends, thinks of the ones who are missing, also mourners, though they don’t know it yet. What do you do, he wonders, when the whole community is in mourning? Who cares for them then?

Beau still looks ready to punch something even as the tears fall unacknowledged, and Nott is grim-faced, mouth pressed into a trembling line. He doesn’t know that either of them has ever really lost someone before. They’re both so young, and while Nott may not have had the same sort of upbringing as Beau or himself, he also knows she didn’t care much for her clan. Losing someone you actually like, someone you have care for and love is very different.

As he well knows.

It’s as he has this thought that he decides it will be him to help his small community- his small _family_ \- through this.

He doesn’t know that he’ll do a good job, doesn’t know that he has it in him anymore, not after everything he’s been through, everything he’s done, but now is as good a time as any to work harder toward absolution. He can still have his goals _and_ take care of these people. 

If Ikithon taught him nothing else, it was the value of compartmentalization.

He comforts Nott to the extent he can, though it’s difficult to admit, even to himself, that he cares so much for these people. Admitting it to anyone else feels like exposing a soft underbelly to claws, a weakness and almost unbearable vulnerability. But he trusts Nott, as much as he trusts anyone, and so though he can’t say it, and in fact walks off when she presses, he still helps plan how they’ll get their other friends back.

Not long after, they’re getting ready to go, to head towards the unknown factor of Shady Creek Run, and he pauses one more time. The freshly churned ground of Molly’s grave is stark against the gathering white of the snow around it. Caleb looks around and quickly finds what he’s looking for. Though there’s the stick with Molly’s coat on it at the head of the grave, Caleb plucks a small smooth stone from the dirt, doing his best to rub it clean with his thumb. He sets it next to the marker, small and insignificant, but he knows it’s there; something to show that someone was here, that someone cared enough to leave a token, that the person in the grave was loved, cared for-

_Remembered_.

A moment, then two, and Beau calls to him from the road where she and the others wait, ready to head on to see what can be done for their friends. Sparing one more second, Caleb takes a deep breath and stands, not bothering to dust himself off.

“Rest well, Mr. Mollymauk.”

And with that, they go on.

**Author's Note:**

> **_Kaddish_ **   
>  _-an ancient Jewish prayer sequence regularly recited in the synagogue service, including thanksgiving and praise and concluding with a prayer for universal peace._   
>  _-a form of the Kaddish recited for the dead_
> 
> Have a question, wanna yell, or just say hi? Come find me on tumblr at [Analisegrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/), or on twitter at the same handle.


End file.
